Real Through Tinted Vision
by HazeLavender
Summary: Riddick goes on an unusual date. Read and Review, please. [Complete]


Title: Real Through Tinted Vision   
  
Author: HazeLavender   
  
Rating: PG-13 for language, sensuality   
  
Category: Het   
  
Pairing: Riddick/Mable   
  
Summary: This was originally a writing challenge. The challenge was as follows:  
  
Write a short story, any fandom or original, in which a mythological creature goes on a blind date with a perfectly normal human. No word limit, but the story should be no more than one chapter. However, I want at least four section breaks for point of view switches. I'd like you to do half the sections from the perspective of dater one, in first person ("I"), and the other half from the perspective of dater two, in third person ("he/she/it"). The sections should alternate--first person, third person, first person, third person.  
  
I chose to pair Riddick up with a Pixie.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Riddick. Mable is mine - don't use her w/o asking me   
  
Feedback: Any and all - constructive criticism much appreciated and flames are good entertainment  
  
Archive: No, that's okay   
  
Notes: This story would probably be more enjoyable with a relative background on Pixie and/or Fairy folklore, as there a lot of "eggs" included. Enjoy!   
  
***  
  
I rubbed the steam off the mirror, looking for my reflection and most definitely expecting a scowl. A few seconds later I surprised myself by actually looking decent for a man about to go to execution, also known as a blind date. I could even go to the length of describing my countenance as determined - prepared to seduce and conquer.  
  
Sliding my hand over my scalp, I rubbed in the after shave lotion, something I never knew I owned. It was probably something Jack had slipped in - stupid kid. This was all her fault, anyway. This setup, this cruel trap for lone wolves, like me. She was always meddling in my forming life, trying her best to "humanoid me." Her words, not mine.   
  
Poor girl, she had a hoo-doo holy man and an escaped murderer as family. But not even that would save her if my date turned out to be a log with hair. No, her ass would be mine if I wasted my night working some basilisk.   
  
Giving myself over to the inevitable, I attempted a charming à la Johns smile. I was surprised the mirror didn't crack. This night was going to ruin me, for sure. Along with Jack's description as my date being "verrrrrrrry unusual" and my hesitant humanity, I would probably end up choking her to death. Now that would be an interesting end; instead of a goodnight kiss, I just killed her. Too bad I didn't do that anymore, as Jack annoyingly reminds me everyday.   
  
I gave up trying to look inviting and settled on dressing myself - in mostly black. Except for the silk gray tie Jack insisted upon, because "you can't look like some kinda vampire freak." I had resisted the urge to tell her that I could look any way I choose.   
  
My ego was suffering - that had to be it. Being verbally forced to take out some anonymous woman was embarrassing; I should've been able to get my own women. And I was. Apparently the wrong ones - the ones that liked to end the night with breakfast. What? I was just that good.   
  
Where was she, anyway? She had insisted on picking me up, strangely so.... Where was she? Another addition to the humiliations. I was now reduced to waiting around when all I felt was a gnawing sensation of being closed in by situational anxiety. Had I ever been on a real date? Was I supposed to buy flowers? I had nothing to offer her, except me and she had every right to reject that. I wasn't exactly bachelor of the year, not with my record and bounty. What the fuck was Jack thinking? I was going to wring her little....  
  
There was a knock on the door. I coolly put down my goggles and opened the door with an air of control, especially odd for the storm I contained inside. The door swung open to reveal... nothing.   
  
There was no one there. Was she shy? I had definitely heard a knock. Being in Slam had made me more susceptible to noise... and smell. There was a crisp, woodsy scent in the air, right outside my flat. An unusual odor for the urban setting. Instinct pelted me upside the head and I closed the door; there was no use in standing there like a deer, with imaginary 'target' written on my chest.   
  
Back inside, I stood straight, watching the door. I was just about to withdraw the shiv from my inner jacket pocket when a tinkling sound to my left caught my attention. A tiny, jagged flash of light struck out of the dimness and with it came the jingling resonance again. My first reaction was to destroy it because whatever it was, it didn't belong. I stepped forward, ready to swat it down.  
  
As my hand came down, the blurry orb shot around and lifted higher up into the air, mocking me. My head tilted up with what I was sure a deadly look. The sphere just changed from green to red and back to green. A shimming laugh filled the morbidly silent room and it sounded... like it was coming from the only illumination in the vicinity... the orb.   
  
My hand found the shiv and I was sure I could get it (whatever "it" was) with just the right aim. I leveled the tip of my weapon to the ceiling and was just about to throw it when... there was a soft exhale. Right before my eyes was an outburst of painful chrome and then the shapely form of a- a-  
  
He looked surprised - duly so. Mable stood in all her enchanted glory, proud of her red hair and shock green dress, tattered from her slight detour to the local park. After all, she was a Pixie and couldn't resist the alluring prospect of vocalizing with her environment. Even though one of the humans she had been given to guide - Jack - had seen her that wasn't to say she was enthused by her guilefulness to tempt her to a date with this big... big... cyclops.  
  
He was just about to kill her... and her beauty. She could not tolerate that. And looking around his living space, she found many other things she couldn't allow. She went over to his hearth and tsked at it, before continuing to organize the knickknacks atop his fireplace.   
  
"I could've killed you," she heard him growl, somewhere much closer than she had anticipated.  
  
She turned around and came face to face with his tense jaw. "Hardly." She tilted her coloured envy eyes as seductively as she could to his... goggles and went on, "I would've flown away before you ever had a chance to stick me with that - that thing, " she pointed to the weapon he was still holding.  
  
"What, my shiv?" he asked, bringing it up so she could get a much too personal inspection.  
  
She blanched slightly. "Get it away from me - iron is cruel to my person," she hissed.  
  
He must've known that fact full well because he kept it out for a few more seconds before tucking it back into his jacket pocket.   
  
"So I guess we should commence this... date," she said with an upturned slant of her delicate head.   
  
Though she was teensy even in her human form, she wasn't about to let this oversized brute intimidate her. She slid past him and made her way to the door.   
  
"Wait," he told her in a baritone voice.  
  
Caught like a naughty nymph, she froze and hoped (not knowing why) that he wasn't cancelling the date.   
  
"I didn't catch your name," he put her fears to rest with an amused inquiry.  
  
She turned gracefully back to him, frayed hem of her dress swinging gently with the movement. "Mable," she said shortly.   
  
As he joined her side, he asked, teasingly, "Can I call you Mab?"  
  
An appalled, "No, you may not," left her plum tinted lips. But afterwards, she smiled, glowing with the compliment.  
  
The restaurant was a dusky one, internally twilight and blissfully void of too much clutter. The setting was intimate and promised a certain air of eloquence.  
  
Mable waited patiently for Riddick, she had learned that was what he wished to be called, to pull out her chair. When he did not, though for a moment he looked like he might, she situated herself and smoothed her dress with glittering pale hands.   
  
Her debonair behaviour was only tainted by her insistence to sort the table and arrange the food in a circular fashion. Even when Riddick told her to stop she continued and explained, "Everything must be just so."  
  
He relented and took to asking about her.  
  
"So what's your story? You a fairy?"  
  
"A Pixie," she corrected. When he didn't respond but just gave her a wickedly appealing smile, she continued, "If I were you, I should just be merry that I'm not a Nixie."  
  
"What's the difference?" he ignorantly asked.  
  
"The difference," she airily began, fiddling with the little pony icon on her necklace "is that they drown humans," she concluded with a serious expression.  
  
"They sound like my kind of people."  
  
"How do you mean?" she wondered aloud.   
  
"Never mind that," he scolded magnetically with his deep voice.  
  
A tiny bit flustered by his brushoff Mable said, "I shall have you know that I can be extremely devious too." The point was punctuated with a petulant sway of her peppery tresses.  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
"Yes, that is so." Her mouth worked out the next words very carefully. "In fact, I'm doomed to this plane of existence because I've been told that I'm too good for Hell but too bad for Heaven."  
  
Riddick let out a hearty laugh, a little disused perhaps. "Sounds like my kinda woman."  
  
She smiled at this, before she hastily caught herself and averted her gaze, lingering too long on a passing woman. When her eyes rested on the cross at the woman's neck, she promptly flinched and turned back to the captivating Riddick. Though he didn't know it, the cross was now in Mable's hand, being disintegrated magically. She was always prone to stealing things, so it was no revelation to her.  
  
"I miss Cornwall, England," she stated out of the blue.  
  
"Why?"  
  
How much could she share with one not of her kind? "I miss spoiling milk, ruining churned butter, frolicking in the wood's..."  
  
"You can do that anywhere," he interrupted.  
  
"I suppose. But I miss the familiarity of the place," she said, periodically arranging the cutlery for her meal.   
  
A rather large hand seized her fidgeting and Riddick told her, "You know me... now you'll have someone familiar in this place."  
  
I had no idea what I was saying. Did those words actually leave my mouth? I swapped my hand back but the damage had already been done. Her eyes shone even more brightly, almost arcane, and I felt something tiny in my palm. When I opened my hand, I discovered a diminutive glob of gold. Something she had fashioned herself, still warm.  
  
"You keep that and use it to call upon me," she told me.   
  
I didn't know how that could be done exactly but I pocketed it, nonetheless. As I did so, I was momentarily distracted by the missing weight in my pocket.  
  
I looked to Mable. "Where is it?"  
  
She blushed translucent pink and out of thin air my shiv appeared.   
  
"Sorry. I have a vice to misplace other's belongings."  
  
I just nodded, once more concealing my shiv. I knew all about shortcomings. But if she kept doing shit like that I would be forced to punish her.  
  
Bringing the conversation back to her, I asked, "So what do you do?"  
  
She brightened up at this. "I do everything!"   
  
I watched her dip her fingers in my glass of water and sprinkle it above her. "But I deal mostly in nature... changing the leaves during autumn and activities of those sort."  
  
I liked the prospect of that... dealing with nature and altering it accordingly. My hand unexpectedly went to my glass as I held her stare and as I took a gulp, I was attracted by the sweet coolness her touch had turned the water into. She was definitely something else.  
  
I paid for dinner and made my way out with Mable. Unable to resist, I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her sultry, exposed moonlit form closer to me. She was a solidly warm being at my side and I was wrapped up in the earthy timber she gave off. The animal side in me reveled in her scent and quintessential representation of all the elements.  
  
As we came to a short bridge, she froze. "I can't cross a stream."  
  
It felt like something I shouldn't question, so I took another route to her home. When I reached her door, I was surprised to find it almost too common for her. I had expected something largely naturalistic but this resembled my own flat. Before reaching the actual threshold, I stopped to turn my jacket inside out and then we went on.   
  
If I had been younger or maybe had had a different life, I might've looked awkward at this point, contemplating a kiss or not. But I was not. I placed my hand on the small of her back and pushed her up to me. My other hand was inching its way up her neck to reach her hair as I felt her lips touch mine. My utmost urge was to open her lips to my tongue and taste her but I waited patiently for her to invite me.   
  
As her lips finally trembled with the last remnants of resistance, I felt their parting and I took no chances and dipped in. She tasted as I knew she would: a hint of garden flowers with a sprinkling of metallic forbiddance. Her nails trailed down my arms as I considered allowing her entrance also.  
  
Mable felt flushed from head to toe as Riddick kissed her. She hadn't been expecting that. She couldn't remember anyone ever being so direct with her; she didn't mind. After all, it was but a kiss.  
  
And what a kiss it was. She pressed against his hard body and explored his contours with a sprites enthusiasm but a unicorn's gentleness. Feeling a tad off by his refusal to let her inside his mouth, she trailed her tongue against his, evoking primal permission. She melded his lips with hers and they slipped on each other, the only friction existing was the one created by their tongues. Riddick tickled the roof of her mouth and imprinted tiny circles around anything he could reach.   
  
Finally, with some insistence and cat and mouse denial, he permitted her entrance into his mouth. Feeling denied for so long, she took every opportunity and returned everything he had bestowed on her - thrice the amount. He was a savoury mix of apples and shocking caramel. With bell-like mewls, Mable reached up and removed his goggles. They kissed each other with eyes open and unblinking; she was mesmerised by his mercury eyes. Beautiful.   
  
She reluctantly pulled away from his delectable lips and stared up at him mischievously. "I should tell you that the jacket theory is just a myth... I could've still tricked you," she said.  
  
"And I'm glad you didn't," he replied in a tone akin to dangerous.  
  
"I didn't," she echoed.  
  
"Can't wait to see what you do on the second date," he smirked. "By the way," he ran a finger down her arm to her pulse point, "when will there be a second date?"  
  
Mable smirked in turn. "Anytime but during a full moon on Midsummer Eve." And with that, she glamoured herself to flying shape and disappeared... not in the flat but the accompanying woods. 


End file.
